


Milky Tea, Six Records, and a Rose

by spottedmoose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Boarding School, AU - study abroad, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, James Potter is a funny Brit, Lily Evans is in over her head, M/M, Peter worries, Remus is British, Sirius is American, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-03-27
Packaged: 2019-08-27 05:51:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16696672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spottedmoose/pseuds/spottedmoose
Summary: Sixteen-year-old American Sirius Black did not expect to like his new British roommate as much as he did... as a friend. Just a friend. (and maybe something more?) British Remus Lupin wasn't sure what he expected from his time in America, but it sure wasn't the companionship of Sirius Black.A boarding-school AU. Remus goes to America and meets Sirius Black. Lily goes to England and meets James Potter. This is the story of how all their lives are connected in more ways than they could ever imagine.





	1. 1

9:00 P.M. // America

His brother wasn’t happy when he found out Sirius smoked. Papery, glowing cylinders of death in a box.  
Doc Martens, black with canary yellow laces wrapped twice around boney ankles and tied in front with a single bow, scuffed and scratched, tapping against ancient stone as Sirius swung his legs like a child. On a swing. Higher, higher.  
He was perched on the windowsill.  
He took a drag of his cigarette.  
He shivered. 

~

Severus Snape was likewise staring out into the night, but his own mind was much more preoccupied than Sirius’ had been. He held, clutched in his hand, a cell phone, open to a chat with Lily Evans, the profile picture a stunning shot of her laughing. The messages read:  
(8:31 p.m.) Have fun in America. Safe flight :)  
(8:53 p.m.) read  
(8:53 p.m.) I’ll miss you :’(  
It was eleven o’clock and Lily hadn’t texted back yet. With a sigh, Severus watched his screen go black once more before closing the window and climbing into bed.

~

Lily Evans was rather excited to be on a plane. It was her first time, and, somehow, everything about the airport was beautiful. The luggage check, and the lines, the waiting area that smelled of socks, and, now, the bit of plane runway she could see from her window. There were little flashing orange lights lining the path into the sky. The asphalt gleamed and glowed. It was absolutely stunning.  
Hilda the seatmate didn’t appreciate the beauty of a glistening runway. “I want to know where my future will go,” she was saying. “I want to know where I’m going and what to expect on the way.” Her legs were crossed and her heels on top of her knees - yoga style. “You know?” Hilda had continued. “That’s why I’m doing this whole study abroad thing. I feel like my life has no direction.”

~

2:00 A.M. // Exiting England

Remus Lupin had lost his toothbrush. It was a cheap Oral-B one, but nonetheless frustrating to lose. He settled for rinsing his mouth thoroughly instead, and then navigated his way out of the cramped airplane loo and down the equally cramped airplane aisle. An upset baby pulled his too large ear and he almost tripped over a pair of long legs that appeared out of nowhere before he made it back to his row and uncomfortably squeezed himself past his seatmate. He looked out of the window but it was all dark outside and he couldn’t see anything.  
Hearing Remus’ sigh: “Hey, mate, want to see a picture of my girlfriend?” offered the seatmate, a high schooler also traveling to America for a year of foreign exchange.  
Remus nodded and slid the window closed. “Sure.”

~

2:00 A.M. // England

Peter to James: “Remus’ flight left a while ago, right?”  
James to Peter: “Yes. Go to sleep Peter; it’s bloody two in the morning.”  
Peter Pettigrew to the dark void of boy’s dorm: “I hope he’s okay. He never sleeps well in new places, you know?”  
James: “Ugh” complete with the sounds of his head taking refuge under multiple layers of pillow.  
Peter: “...sorry…” No one heard him.

~

12:07 A.M. // America

It was about now that The Roommates (capital R, capital T) decided to come back. Sirius took one last peaceful drag on his cigarette (he would need a new pack soon) and snubbed it before throwing it out the window. The door burst open and The Roommates clambered in. Sirius hastily hit the cigarette pack in his pocket.  
“Yo, Siri boy, Siri my man, I can borrow your toothpaste, bro?” It was Matt speaking, Matt with the cool boy attitude but posh boy clothing.  
Sirius didn’t even bother to question it. He answered without moving from the window seat; “Top left cabinet, the Oral-B brand, and I’ve told you not to call me Siri.”  
Matt staggered off to the direction of the tiny dorm bathroom the four of them shared, undoubtedly drunk out of his wits. One drunkee down, two to go.  
“Sirius, Sirius, my man. My man Sirius, my serious man Sirius, why so serious, Sirius?” Drunk Darian thought himself a riot, but in reality had dribbled beer down the front of his button-down. Nikolaas seemed to be the most sensible, and sane, of the lot, seeing as he pushed Darian into bed and then promptly left the dorm - leaving Sirius to deal with the others. Sirius closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath; the restorative effects of the cigarette had evaporated long ago.  
Darain, his voice muffled because he was laying face down on his bed, giggled. “Why so serious, Sirius?” he asked again, and then broke into hysterical drunken laughter.

~

Severus Snape had fallen asleep, his cheek pressed deep into the side of his embroidered pillow case. When he wakes he’ll have embroidery imprints of poppies across his cheek, but there’s nothing he can do about that now.

~

3:07 A.M. // Above the Atlantic Ocean 

Lily Evans was also asleep, her cheek pressed deep into the shoulder of Hilda “Who Needs to Find Direction.” Lily will probably have the sweater texture bumps across her cheek in the morning.

~

Remus was not asleep. He cannot sleep. Eugene The Seatmate With A Girlfriend is is explaining, in detail, the physical features, and their advantages, of all the girls he had been with. Remus really doesn’t want to hear about B versus C cup girls. Mentally, he was frantically reviewing all the British words that are different in America. Trousers are pants. Biscuits are cookies. Chips are french fries and crisps are chips.

~

5:07 A.M. // England

Peter was awake. James was’t. Peter wasn’t really sure why he was up at such an early hour, he usually took the opportunity to sleep in as much as possible, but he was worried about Remus - that might have something to do with it.  
Fact was, Peter wasn’t exactly worried for Remus - it was more that he was worried James would leave him if Remus wasn’t there. Peter thought Remus was probably the super glue and he and James were two oppositely charged and reluctant magnets.  
Identifying the source of his anxiety hadn’t really helped Peter; instead of falling back asleep he quietly dressed and made his way down to the common room - it couldn’t hurt to get some calculus homework out of the way. 

~

James sighed and turned over in his sleep. His pillows were perfectly smooth; there would be no embarrassing prints on his cheek in the morning. 

~

10:00 A.M. // America 

Darian was awake and hungover. Matt was in the bathroom puking into the toilet bowl. Nikolaas was still asleep and wearing noise canceling headphones. Sirius wished he had some.  
“You all owe me,” he mumbled, slipping on a sweatshirt. “When I come back with coffee,” he looked around the room sternly, “I want Nikolaas up, Matt no longer puking and, you, Darian, dressed and apologetic for your bad puns last night.”  
And with that, Sirius Black walked out of his dorm, slamming the door behind him. He reached for his pack of cigarettes.

~

Severus Snape was still asleep, so he didn’t hear his phone ping.  
(10:00 a.m.) we’ve landed!  
Then, a few seconds later, a second ping.  
(10:00 a.m.) wrong person

~

Remus Lupin was dead tired. Dead on his feet, sweaty and grimy from ten hours worth of travel, and exhausted from the snores of his seatmate. Not that he would have slept anyway; he cannot sleep in new places. He only ever feels this awful when he’s hungover.  
He did not expect to wash his face, brush his teeth, and shave in a public airport bathroom. He did not expect to wait half an hour to get his baggage off the blasted baggage claim.  
The stumbling, confused British boys were herded into taxis like cattle, and from the taxis into a hotel where there were, blissfully, beds. The next morning there was cultural orientation with some man called Albus Dumbledore who was in some shape, way, or form, important. Remus could not care less. 

~

5:00 P.M. // England 

Lily was too exhausted to care about the cultural orientation talk, but attempted to take notes like a good student anyway. Monthly check ups by international coordinator, she wrote, yawning. Minerva McGonagall, she wrote. Phone number for emergencies, she wrote, 015624 768 779, and fell asleep sitting up. 

~

“Mr. Potter.” Professor McGonagall was standing just outside the doorway to the boys dormitory, a slightly unpleasant look upon her stern face. “Is Mr. Potter in here?”  
Peter looked around hurriedly, a bit panicked. “I-I don’t think so, Professor.” He looked around again, as if expecting James to suddenly appear, or pop out from underneath one of the beds perhaps. No James-like form emerged.  
“Um,” said Peter, who was always unprepared for these sorts of situations and spent most of his days hoping to avoid them. Clearly, today he wasn’t so lucky. “Um,” he said again, in hopes of buying himself a bit of time.  
McGonagall raised her eyebrows. “Do you know where he may be, Mr. Pettigrew?”  
Peter looked panicked. “Um?” he suggested. McGonagall was unimpressed. The combination of McGonagall’s piercing gaze and the fact that all he wanted to do was eat his muffin and work on calculus homework in peace caused was the last straw for poor Peter and he yelled, desperately, “JAMES!”  
There was a skid, a crash, and a muffled grunt of pain. Behind McGonagall in the doorway James picked himself up off the floor. He ruffled his hair and gave a cocky grin. “You called?” he asked. Peter had never been more relieved. 

~

6:37 P.M. // America

Dumbledore bounced up to Sirius the exact moment the boy had put a rather sizable chunk of steak in his mouth.  
“Mr. Black!” Said the headmaster, beaming from ear to ear.  
“Ugglf?” Sirius responded and then swallowed hurriedly. “Sir?”  
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Would you mind stopping by my office after your dinner of delicious steak?”  
Sirius frowned a tad bit. Surely his parents hadn’t sent him another letter? He had just received one last week...  
His worry must have been clear from his face (that, or Dumbledore could read minds), for the Headmaster gave Sirius a grin and patted him on the shoulder.  
“Nothing to worry about, Mr. Black. Bring your roommates with you too. Don’t stress yourself out - all we have to do is talk about the empty bed in that dormitory of yours.”

~

5:10 P.M. // England

“Have a biscuit, Potter.” McGonagall wasn’t in a bad mood, per se; James could tell she wasn’t truly frustrated because, though she was glaring, it was clear that her heart wasn’t quite into the task.  
“No thanks, Professor,” he said sweetly. “I’m on a diet; I’ve got to keep my luscious body in shape, after all.”  
No, Professor McGonagall definitely wasn’t angry, because she almost smiled at that.  
“Suit yourself, Mr. Potter.”  
There was a strangely comfortable yet also very awkward silence. James tried not to fidget. He’d been in McGonagall office many times before, but usually he had some inkling as to why he was there -  
“You are not in trouble today, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall confirming James’ suspicions. James sighed in relief. “Well, a bit of trouble, I suppose,” McGonagall added. “It has been brought to my attention that you have been very neglectful of your prefect duties, as of late.”  
James would have made a face had he been anywhere else. As it was, only his mouth squirmed slightly out of his control. “Well, Professor…” he began.  
It was true, James had not been an exemplary prefect in the past few months. First, it was because he had broken up with Miranda, then it was because Peter’s mum was sick, and the past two weeks had been dedicated to saying goodbye to Remus and making sure the other boy was having the time of this life so that, as Peter put it, “he doesn’t abandon us for some stupid Americans.” So there were plenty of reasons James hadn’t been attending to his post, but none of the reasons he could tell McGonagall.  
“Um, well,” he said.  
McGonagall hadn’t moved a muscle. She raised her eyebrows slightly at this display of eloquence. First Peter and now James had been rendered inarticulate.  
“We are receiving a new study abroad student tomorrow, Mr. Potter,” she told James, instead of assigning various detentions and grueling tasks such as cleaning toilets which James had expected.  
“Oh?” James swore McGonagall’s brain moved at least three times the speed of his. He saw no connection between cleanliness of toilet bowls and foreign students. Unless the students were picky about the particular shade of white of the toilet bowl, in which case…  
“Yes, Mr. Potter,” said McGonagall, a bit sharply, and James’ brain came reeling back into focus. “A study abroad student. And, since you have been lax in your responsibilities lately, it is now your sole focus to help this student adjust. Show them to all their classes, introduce them to your friends, eat meals with them, if so necessary.” James’ mouth forgot it had a jaw and unhinged completely. “For the next week, you will help this student adjust, is that understood?”  
James’ jaw may have lost sense of control, but his mind was moving at breakneck speed, trying to negotiate his way out of this. “But, Professor-”

~ 

7:30 P.M. // America 

“Dumbles wants what now?” Matt panted from the vicinity of Sirius’ left ear.  
“To talk,” said Sirius. He was grumpy.  
“About the bed!” injected Darian, self-assuredly. “I bet we’re getting a new student!”  
That wasn’t the first time the possibility had crossed Sirius’ mind and it didn’t suit his fancy; his roommates caused him enough stress as it was, he definitely didn’t want another one to deal with. Unfortunately, he figured Darian had hit the nail on the head.  
“Why the fuck did he tell us only now?” said Nikolaas.

 

~

5:23 P.M. // England

“I think, Professor, what you mean to say is…” James was scrambling, clutching at any way of escape, any excuse. “You mean to say that I will serve three detentions instead? On nights I don’t have football practice?” He added hopefully. “It’s easy to confuse the two, really.”  
“No, Mr. Potter.” McGonagall wasn’t smiling. “I was perfectly clear in what I meant.The student shall arrive tomorrow. I’ll call you up to my office when they get here. Now,” the Professor, stood up, and straightened some papers that didn’t need straightening, “you may go.” It was clear that James was dismissed, and even more clear that there was no room for negotiation.  
“See you tomorrow, Professor,” said James, with fake cheer. “I can’t wait to help this new student!” Reverse psychology is a tricky thing, and clearly James had not quite mastered it because McGonagall ignored him completely.

~

5:23 P.M. // America

“Have a lemon drop, boys,” said Dumbledore, pushing a cut glass bowl of sweets towards the teens. Sirius, who had been in this office many times and knew the routine well, popped one into his mouth. Darian looked around, puzzled, and followed Sirius’ example.  
“You are all here, tonight,” Dumbledore said, looking around dramatically, “to talk about the empty bed in your dorm room.”  
Darian, mouth filled lemon drop, nodded vigorously. Nikolaas looked supremely bored - a look that had taken him years to master, but now was extremely convincing. Matt coghed.  
“We have a study abroad student arriving tomorrow,” said Dumbledore.  
“I knew it,” whispered Darian, as if he had just won a prize.  
“He will be staying in your room with you all for the next sixth months. I trust you will all be welcoming to him? Show him to his classes, make small talk at the dinner table, that sort of thing?” He raised his eyebrows, questioningly.  
Nikolaas paused from looking bored to nod nonchalantly. Matt shrugged. Darian beamed.  
“Well then,” the Headmaster clapped his hands together, like a small child who had just been given an ice lolly, “you are dismissed.”  
They rose, the four boys, as if part of one well- oiled machine, and slipped out of the office.  
“I knew it,” mumbled Darian. “Newbie coming our way.”

9:30 A.M. // America

Another one bites the dust. Another one bites the dust. And another one gone, another one gone, another one bites the dust! Hey, gonna get you too! Another one bites the dust!  
Sirius hummed along with the music - imagining various vicious aunts and prejudiced uncles of biting the dust as out of the doorway the bullets rip to the sound of the beat. He was painting his nails black, and smoking a cigarette by the open window while everyone else was at breakfast. There are plenty of ways that you can hurt a man, Sirius mumbled, nodding his head, And bring him to the ground. A drop of nail polish trickled down his index finger and Sirius cursed softly. You can beat him, you can cheat him, you can treat him bad, there was a soft tap on the door but Sirius, concerned with the nail polish slowly traveling down his hand to his wrist and bobbing his head in time to the music didn’t notice. You can leave him when he’s down. With his dry hand Sirius removed the cigarette from his mouth, exhaled and shouted the next line. But I’m ready, yes, I’m ready for you, standing on my own two feet! The cigarette entered his mouth again and the lines Out of the doorway the bullets ripped were mumbled.  
“But still I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you” said a voice and Sirius spun around, alarmed. “But what difference does it make?” The voice came from a boy standing in the open doorway to the room. A doorway that wasn’t open before and a boy Sirius has never seen in his life.  
Sirius, aware of the nail polish slowly dripping down his arm (the black nail polish slowly dripping down his arm and about to stain the carpet) said “What?”  
“That song always reminds me of What Difference Does It Make” said the boy. He had shaggy tawny hair and a backpack. Sirius was confused and so says nothing. “The Smiths?” the stranger prompts, frowning a bit.  
“I always preferred The Cure myself,” Sirius mumbled, before he has a chance to think. His brain finally catches up with his eyes. “Who are you?”  
The boy finally laughed a bit and moved out of the doorway to reveal the largest and most tattered suitcase Sirius has ever had the privilege to lay eyes on. “Your new roommate,” he answered, and wheels the mess of a piece of luggage into the room. He points to the bed without sheets, without curtains - a sagging mattress on a scratched bed frame. “That one’s mine, I take it?”  
“Uh yeah,” and then Sirius spun around to confront the disaster of a manicure that was dripping down his arm. This nail polish job would probably be worse than the Blue Nail Polish Mistake of 2005, and he was only four then.  
By the time he has finished his nails (and saved the carpet from permanent disaster, although the black puddle by his right foot may never disappear) the boy has made his way over to the bed and opened the suitcase without making it fall apart further. There is an awkward silence in the room, and Sirius doesn’t know what to say, so he says nothing at all. He considers grabbing his pack of cigarettes and making a break for it (even though he’s technically still smoking one) when the boy talks.  
“You can like both, you know,” he says, his voice a lilt and the British accent now obvious (why didn’t Sirius notice it before?) So consumed is he by the voice, that Sirius takes a moment to digest the meaning of the words. Like both what? Boys and girls? Day and night? Green and puce?  
“Like both The Smiths and The Cure, I mean,” the voice is slightly more tentative than it was when it was coming from the doorway. It continues, a tad indignantly (probably because Sirius has made no sign of acknowledgment and is a terrible conversationalist). “It’s stupid that people think you have to pick one. They’re both good bands.”  
And Sirius, finally feeling at home in his room again (since when his solitude was rudely interrupted three minutes ago) laughs. “Okay then, music expert,” he mocks.  
The boy turns around and smiles - freckles, chapped lips, shaggy locks and all. “I’m Remus,” he said, “your new resident music expert.” And then, gesturing to the thick layer smoke swirling about the room, “Can we open a window?”


	2. Chapter 2

**2:30 P.M. // England ******

********

****

 

Marlene is braiding her wet hair, trying her best to ignore the chin resting on her shoulder and the teeth nibbling her ear in a very appealing way. 

“You know, uh, Dor, that I’m uh, slightly, uh busy,” she shivered when Dorcas pressed a wet kiss under her ear and sucked at the skin. “I’m busy,” she managed to spit out again, this time without any embarrassing noises. 

“Not as busy as you could be,” said Dorcas, trying to sound suggestive, but instead sounding pouty. Marlene turned to face the girl laughed gently at her girlfriend. 

“I’m sure I could indeed be much busier,” she acknowledged, tying off the end of her braid with a flourish, “but I promised Florence…”

“Promised her what, exactly?” Dorcas moped, and snuck her cold hands down from the small of Marlene’s back, down past her waist.... 

“Babe,” Marlene moaned, pressing against the girl behind her. “I promised to help her study for biology.” She muttered, slowly recovering her train of thought. “We have a test this week.” 

“You know,” Dorcas’ smirk returned as she nosed Marlene’s jaw, “we could study a little biology ourselves… what exactly do you know about the female reproductive system?”

Marlene threw back her head and laughed. 

**2:32 P.M. // England ******

********

****

Professor McGonagall had shown Lily to the doorway of the dormitory, explained she was rooming with some very nice girls and then left promptly after saying someone would be by later to show her around. Where that someone was at the moment, here McGonagall had frowned, well, someone would drop by at some point.

The american girl chewed at her bottom lip (it was chapped) and picked up her duffel bag, noting there was loud laughter coming from behind the door. With a grimace, Lily rolled her neck and pushed the door open, half expecting the worst. Instead, she found two girls passionately making out.

“Oh, god, sorry,” she half-yelled, as both girls looked up at her simultaneously. “I’m just, uh, sorry.” She stumbled over her words again. “I’m just here to try and find my room…”

“Are you American?” asked the girl with braided hair. Lily nodded. 

“McGonagall showed me to this room” she attempted to explain. “She didn’t tell you I’d be coming?”

Both girls shook their heads. “But we do have an empty bed,” the girl with braids conceded. “Dump your stuff on it and Dorcas here,” she nibbled the other girls ear, “can take you to McG’s to check out the situation.” 

The girl called Doracs smiled at Lily gently. “You gotta go meet up with Flo,” she reminded her girlfriend. 

“Oh shit I forgot,” said braided hair girl, “I gotta run.” She kissed Dorcas on the cheek and nodded to Lily. “Welcome to the greatest empire on the earth, American,” she proclaimed before dashing out the door. 

**2:35 P.M. // England ******

********

********

James Potter was running late, which would be neither a surprise to any member of the Sowccorne student body nor any of the staff. But McGonagall had very specifically told James to be at her office no later than 2:15 to show the new student around the school and extracted a promise from him that he would be there on time, or serve three detentions. 

It was currently looked like James would be serving three detentions. 

**2:40 P.M. // England ******

********

********

“Why are you here?” asked Dorcas on their way to McGonagall’s office. 

“Why not?” answered Lily, staring at her feet and walking down a massive stone staircase. 

Dorcas said nothing to that, so Lily hurriedly added, “I go to a really small school in the US. I guess I just wanted to see what else was out there.” 

Dorcas was nodding her head. “I’ve gone to Hogwarts my whole life; sometimes I wish I could explore somewhere else as well.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I’m a scholarship student. Do you know how expensive study abroads are?” Lily nodded her head in sympathy. She was all too familiar with those conversations. 

“Why England, of all places?” Dorcas wondered. 

“I wanted to meet the queen,” Lily joked. 

“No but really.”

“The truth?” Lily said. “I find British accents sexy as hell.”

**9:40 A.M. // America ******

********

********

Ten minutes had passed and Sirius, having already organized his shoe rack, rearranged his textbooks, and cleaned out the bottom of his backpack (contents: four paper clips, a dried up Sharpie, three springs that were possibly from pens, and a note with an insulting illustration of a professor), was running out of activities that involved minimal contact with Remus the British Boy. Remus the British Boy was slowly unpacking items of clothing one by one. Sirius figured he didn’t much want to talk either. 

“There’s breakfast downstairs, if you want any, I mean,” Sirius suggested tentatively.

“Would it involve meeting lots of new people?”

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, probably.”

“No thanks then. I think I’ll just take a nap.”

Sirius wanted to ask if Remus was hungry (he must be), but he also wasn’t a mother hen, and Remus hadn’t come to be babysat. 

“Alight, suit yourself,” Sirius grumbled. “I’m going down to the kitchens though.”

“Will there be people in the kitchens?”

“Yeah, but not students… wanna come?”

Remus was sitting on the edge of his bed, head cocked, surveying Sirius. 

“Are students allowed in the kitchens?”

Sirius almost growled. Of course Remus the British Boy was a goody-good. 

“What’s it to you?” He tried to sound aloof.

Remus the British Boy half-grinned. “Nothing. I’ll come with you.”

**9:28 A.M. // America ******

********

********

Professor Dumbledore had said it would be easy to find the boys dormitory and then had winked at Remus before offering him a lemon drop which Remus declined. However, reflected Remus, as he lugged his suitcase up yet another flight of stone steps that looked eerily similar to the last set that he had climbed, it would have been even easier with a map.

He had to ask for directions twice. First from a girl who clearly wanted to be Cinderella but instead looked like someone with a bad dye job and too much makeup. She fluttered her spidery eyelashes at him when she heard his British accent. The other person seemed to want to melt into the wall, and had barely mumbled and waved a hand in a vague direction before sprinting off. Remus wondered if his breath smelled. 

But, at last, after countless stairs and three close run-ins with small students, Remus reached the common room, and then a single wooden door. “Fuck off” said the sign on the door. Then, below it: Sirius Black, Darian Hartley, Matthew Smith, Nikolaas Stephenson and, penciled in, Remus Lupin. So this was it then. 

Someone was singing along to Another One Bites the Dust behind the door; singing very badly. This had the potential to be a painful six months. Remus squared his shoulders, took a deep breath and opened the door. 

“But I’d leap in front of a flying bullet for you,” he sang back. Why the heck not make a strong first impression. “But what difference does it make?” he continued, and then stopped, because the boy had turned around and bloody hell, he was gorgeous. 

**2:41 P.M. // England ******

********

********

There was a boy running towards Lily at breakneck speed, shirt untucked, tie streaming behind him like a flag, shoes slapping the stone floors. 

“Uh oh,” muttered Dorcas, moving to the side of the hallway. “That’s James Potter,” she said. “Typically up to no good. I bet he’s running away from the caretaker or something.”

The boy did look to be a mischievous type: crazy hair, crooked glasses, face freckles. 

“Cheers, Dorcas,” he slowed down slightly as he approached. “I’m running late to McGonagall’s,” he puffed, accompanied with a shrug, before speeding past them again.

“We’re headed there too!” Dorcas shouted as he disappeared down the hall. “Walk with us.”

James Potter’s head shook empathetically as he continued to run. “I can’t. I’m running late!”

Lily almost laughed at the similarity between James Potter and the white rabbit. 

**2:41 P.M. // England ******

********

********

Bloody hell, she was gorgeous, noted James, eying the girl beside Dorcas. Too bad he couldn’t stop to introduce himself. 

“I can’t. I’m running late!” He yelled and shook his head.

**9: 41 A.M. // America ******

********

********

What does one say to an unexpected Brit? Sirius wondered, scuffing his boots. The halls were virtually empty and the stillness did not help make the situation any less awkward. Beside him Remus the British Boy seemed to be doing everything, including breathe, silently. 

“You found the dorm okay then?” Sirius asked, and then mentally kicked himself. Of course he found the dorm okay, otherwise they wouldn’t be here right now. 

But the question, whether smart or not, broke the tension and Remus let loose a light laugh.  
“Ehhh, slightly okay.” Remus shrugged his shoulders. “This school is well big. How do you avoid getting lost?”

Sirius glanced at the boy beside him. “I’ve gone to Watford Edge my whole life. I don’t know. I definitely got lost the first few years, but now I know the school like the back of my hand. Every nook and cranny.”

“Every nook and cranny?”

“Alight,” Sirius amended, with a teasing frown, “most nooks and crannies. Enough to get away when I need to and enough to know how to get into the kitchens.”

What would you need to get away from, Remus wondered, but didn’t dare ask. Instead, “So tell me, how do we get to the kitchens?”

Sirius laughed, and Remus looked away so that he didn’t stare at his mouth, or grey eyes, or sharp cheekbones... “We get to the kitchens,” Sirius grinned, “with my expert guidance and no small amount of magic.”

 

**10:00 A.M. // America ******

********

********

“So if the kitchens are really this easy to find,” Remus spluttered around his eclair, and wiped his mouth messily on the back of his hand (Sirius tried to ignore the streaks of chocolate on the other boys face, he really did), “and the cooks are really this nice,” (Sirius would have to tell Remus that he had chocolate on his face at some point, he really would), “why aren’t there more students down here?”

“You have chocolate on your cheek,” said Sirius. 

Remus glared (but did he also blush?) “Answer the question.”

**3:00 P.M. // England ******

********

********

 

“Ah but Professor,” James smiled in what he hoped was a confident manner, “I know that Americans are always late, and so I was trying to accommodate for such cultural divides.”

McGonagall wasn’t happy, she wasn’t entertained, she was furious. “James Potter!” she exclaimed, “I asked for one job, one job, and you can’t even bother yourself to come on time. I am seriously considering your removing you as prefect if you do not get your act together this instant!”

“But Professor…”

“I know you’ve been distracted by Mr. Lupin’s departure, I know that you’ve been distracted by your breakup with Miranda, but none of those, none of those, are valid excuses for missing four prefect meetings in a row and showing up half an hour late!”

“I…”

“You have lettuce in your teeth, Mr. Potter.”

That shut James up fast. He wiggled his tongue around in his mouth, trying to find the pesky green. Ah, there it was, if only he had a toothpick….

“And three detentions to serve, as well as six hours of tutoring underclassmen, and a duty to welcome this American girl, if, and only if, I am to consider keeping you a prefect!” 

“Yes, Professor.” 

“Is that clear, Mr. Potter?”

“Yes, Professor.”

McGonagall looked at him from over the tops of her glasses and James tried not to fidget. 

“Is the lettuce out of my teeth, Professor?”

James was glad McGonagall didn’t keep heavy objects in her office (elephants, anvils, Oxford Dictionaries), otherwise she probably would have thrown one at him.

 

**3:05 P.M. // England ******

********

********

 

Lily and Dorcas could hear the sounds of yelling even from down the hallway. 

“McGonagall and James are at it again,” Dorcas smiled a bit. 

“Is he always in trouble,” Lily was a tiny bit worried.

“Oh yeah. That boy just has a nose for it.”

They were closer to the office door now. 

“Is that clear, Mr. Potter?” asked a stern voice. Lily bit her lip. Now really didn’t seem like a good time to interrupt. 

“Maybe we should come back later?” she whispered to Dorcas. As much as she wanted to verify that she was supposed to share a room with Marlene and Dorcas, she couldn’t imagine interrupting such a serious conversation. 

“What, and miss all the fun?” Dorcas was incredulous. “No, we’re going to go in there.”

Lily hugged her upper arms and watched, nervously, and Dorcas raised her hand to knock. 

“Is the lettuce out of my teeth, Professor,” piped up a voice from inside that was definitely James Potter’s. 

Dorcas grinned and knocked.

 

**10:50 A.M. // America ******

********

********

Sirius was doing dreaded Trigonometry homework (he now had a fiery hatred of any and all triangles) when Darian burst back into the room singing Mulan. 

What was it with these American boys and singing? Remus wondered.

“Be the force of a great typhoooooon!” and another boy came crashing though the doorway. “Be a man!” Sirius and the other two roommates belted, and Sirius rolled up his sleeves and jokingly flexed. He did have quite a bit of muscle though, Remus noticed, and then tried to rapidly un-notice. 

It was interesting to watch Sirius and his two roommates bounce around the room, belting out lyrics off key as if this song was their anthem. The Sirius Remus had met was a bit skittish and hard-shelled, nothing like the boy that was now bouncing on a bed, swinging his shirt around his head. 

They had finished the song now, (the grand finale consisting of leaping across the room bed to bed - Remus noticed none of them even tried to jump on his) and Sirius lay panting on top of his sheets.

“And that’s how we do it in America, Brit!” said one of the boys, settling down on the foot of the bed across from Remus. 

“What a shame that I quit being a choir boy when I was six,” Remus joked back and, he think he won the American roomate over, because he let out a barking laugh and nodded. 

“Matthew Smith, House of the Most Honored Smiths,” the roommate said in an awful British accent. “The heathen over yonder,” (Mathew House of the Most Honored Smiths was really getting into the whole British poshness thing; Remus could almost laugh) “is the young and flighty Darain,” Darian looked up from his phone to flash Remus a smile and flip Matthew the bird, “and it seems you have already met Sirius Black,” here the accent slipped, “the only one of us actually from a House, the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black!”

Sirius sat up on the bed and grimaced. “Shut it Matthew,” he grumbled. 

“But we must tell the esteemed visiting Remus Lupin the story of your tragic downfall!” Matthew continued, and Remus couldn’t tell if he was ignorant of the glares Sirius was sending his way, or if he was just a jerk enough to ignore them. 

“No downfall and no tragedy,” Sirius commanded, and Remus saw how Sirius could hold power, how immediately Matthew and Darian looked up at him. 

Now that he had their attention, Sirius dropped the glare, and tried joking. “I hereby ban any downfall and tragedy from this dorm!” 

They were all quiet, and Sirius slid off the bed looking more tired than Remus thought was possible to look at ten o’clock in the morning. “I’m off,” he murmured, and then grabbed his jacket and was out the door.

Darain heaved a sigh from the other side of the room. “You’re going to have to apologize to him you know,” he told Matt, “unless you want your underwear drawer filled with frog spawn again.”

Matt shrugged a bit, looking a bit abashed, and then remembered Remus was there. “Yeah okay. I’ll go get him a donut from the kitchens from something,” and then Matt was out the door too. 

Remus looked over to Darain, who was back to scrolling on his phone. He must have sensed Remus’ gaze though because he looked up and smiled faintly. “They’re good people, really. Sirius is just sensitive when anyone brings up his family - they’re frankly quite awful people. And Matt likes to run his mouth, especially when there are new people.”

Remus nodded slowly and stifled a yawn. Darian noticed and grinned for real this time. 

“I bet you’re super jet-lagged, huh? Sirius and Matt shouldn’t be back for a while, so you should definitely take a nap.”

And Remus, who was sitting on a bed without sheets or pillows yawned again because, yeah, he was tired. 

And when Darian threw him a pillow it was all the encouragement Remus needed to close his eyes and drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um yeah sorry this is so late. I'll try to work on getting the next chapter up sooner. Hope you enjoy!


	3. Chapter 3

**3:06 P.M. // England**

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********

The door swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, face drawn and stern, glasses perched on the end of her nose. When she saw Lily her gaze softened every so slightly. 

“Girls,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting you. Could you perhaps give me a moment? I need to finish something up. I’ll call you in when I’m ready.” 

And with that, the door slammed shut again. Dorcas grinned. “James Potter really knows how to ruffle her feathers.”

 

**11:00 A.M. // America**

********

********

He had pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, but it was more to hold than to smoke. At times like this his hands fidgeted, twisting a button here, pulling a string there, picking at cuticles, like they had a mind of their own. 

The cigarette floated from index finger to ring finger, spun around his pinkie, came back to his thumb as if by magic. Really, though, it was by unintentional practice.

When he was younger and his mom yelled at him, or his father hit him, or Regulus frowned at him, his hands would shake. His hands would shake so much that it was hard to see where they were, they vibrated so fast. He would trap them under his armpits, clamp his elbows to his sides, still his whole torso and even then he could feel his hands moving of their own accord. 

Later his hands would fly, hitting tables, punching walls, pushing his brother, tearing apart his pillow. And only then, goose feathers floating down to the floor like snow, hidden in his room, hands still frantic, would he cry.

Sirius Black was a silent crier, he didn’t sniffle or whimper or gasp or sob. Perhaps as a baby he had, once, or twice, but as soon as he was old enough to know what his parents thought, what his parents expected of him, he learned to how to be quiet. How to be silent. How to be invisible. 

He wasn’t lying earlier that morning when he told Remus that he know the school like the back of his hand, that he was more familiar with the twists and turns, the hideous old gargoyles and sloping banisters than he was with the expressions of his mother's face, the plains of her cheeks, the smile lines or gentle wrinkles. 

He reckoned he knew two expressions from his mother (a stolid blank look of ignoring or the warped hideous one of fury) and one from this father (angry disappointment that sat in the crows feet of his empty dark eyes, that dripped off his chin, and the slopes of his cheeks). 

This is what Sirius thought of as he watched his unlit cigarette pass from finger to finger, from black nail-polished nail to nail. And his hands were what Sirius watched as Matt approached him fifteen minutes later, clutching a squashed strawberry iced donut with sprinkles. Matt held it out in front of him like a shield. 

“A peace offering, huh?” Sirius finally muttered, before taking the donut from Matt’s outstretched hand. 

Matt let out a sigh of relief as Sirius took it. “Yeah, I suppose.” He dusted his hands off on his dress pants. “I, uh, listen, I didn’t mean to bring up your family like that. It was just for a laugh, it really was.”

Sirius said nothing and put a orange sprinkle on his tongue and let it sit there in the spit and saliva and unsaid words. He let is sit there and dissolve into a trickle of sugar. He swallowed. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

“Okay?” Matt looked hopeful.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay, okay. Friends still?”

“Of course, stupid.” Matt whooped and Sirius let a small grin leak through his set face. “Don’t do it again though.” 

“I won’t, I won’t.”

Sirius knew Matt would bring up his family up again, despite any promises made at the moment. He would bring them up when he was drunk and forgetful, or when he was running out of things to say, or when he was feeling vicious, and Sirius would storm off or punch him or yell, and Matt would come by later with a donut because Darian forced him to. Sirius knew how these things worked; Sirius knew how their friendship functioned. He knew that Matt knew too. But, at this very moment, holding an unlit cigarette and a flattened donut, Sirius also knew he wouldn’t bring it up, and neither would Matt, and they would continue on, pretending to be friends, when, had they not been sharing a dorm, if they didn’t have Darian holding then together, they likely would have tried to kill each other multiple times by now. 

 

**3:15 P.M. // England**

********

********

When McGonagall opened the door ten minutes later Lily wasn’t sure what exactly she expected, but it certainly wasn’t James Potter’s grinning face. (How anyone could grin after ten minutes with a livid McGonagall was beyond Lily.)

Dorcas took one look at James and muttered “oh no.”

“Mr. Potter, Miss Evans,” McGonagall announced, striding to stand behind her desk to look at James, sitting on a chair, and Lily and Dorcas, hesitantly just within the doorway. “Now that you have met, I would like to apologize on the behalf of Mr. Potter right here for not receiving a proper tour of our fine school. At the time of your appointed tour he, seemingly, had something much more important to do.”

James smirked a bit and ruffled his hair. “Don’t worry Minnie, I’ll take care of Lily just right,” he grinned. Lily repressed a shudder. 

“Mr. Potter please,” McGonagall seemed exhausted, because here she closed her eyes for a moment and pressed her fingers at the bridge of her nose. “You will give Miss Evans here an appropriate tour to make up for your tardiness earlier. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.” 

“In that case, it is time to get started.” The Professor sat down and finally noticed Dorcas. “Miss. Meadowes, why exactly are you here?”

“I wanted to make sure Lily was placed in the correct room, Professor.” 

“Yes yes, with you and Miss McKinnon, correct? That is the correct placement. Is that all?”

Dorcas smiled and nodded gently. Professor McGonagall looked like she needed a strong drink; James Potter often had that effect on people. 

Unlike McGonagall, James seemed full of energy for he virtually sprang out of his seat and ruffled his hair again. “In that case, Professor, can the tour commence?”

McGonagall nodded slowly, “Yes,” she said, “I think it can.”

James looked at Lily and winked. 

“Jesus,” muttered Dorcas.

-

Peter was squirreled away in a corner of the Gryffindor common room, earbuds in, hot cocoa at his elbow, bobbing his head slightly in time to the music, working on Trigonometry homework. 

It was often frustrating at first, when he didn’t understand the concept, but once he got it Peter loved the predictable repetition of doing math problems, how they all boiled down into concrete single answers. How there was a clear step by step process he could follow. 

He took a sip of his hot chocolate and moved onto the next problem.

 

**11:30 A.M. // America**

********

********

The day of his mother’s funeral Remus had woken up to birdsong. It had been a warm summer night, and he had fallen asleep looking out up into the sky, looking at the moon, tracing the stars until, when he closed his eyelids, all he saw were flickering stars and one great white moon staring down at him. 

There had been a moment upon waking up, a glorious blissful moment, when he forgot what day it was, what the past week had been, and all the stress and worry and grief had melted away in the pastel glow of the morning sun and been replaced by the slow call of a mourning dove. And then, as he blinked and rolled over, and saw his suit laid out, it all came back. 

The funeral had been too long. The remembrance sermon had been inarticulate. And when his father stood up to talk Remus looked away because he didn’t want to cry. And though the cancer that had killed his mother was not his fault, he felt it was his fault. And Remus’ father wanted it to be.

Before they lowered her into the ground, everyone piled flowers on top of the casket and Remus couldn’t remember where he had put his flower, _his _flower for _his _mother and it was that, more than the sad slow hugs of his relatives, that made him cry. He couldn’t find the rose, the red red rose, that he had put on the casket. He couldn’t find his rose for his mother.____

_____ _

_____ _

Years ago, he used to wake up from nightmares in which he was stuck in the cemetery and the casket was being lowered into the ground and he was still clutching the rose. Or he would be running towards the casket, yelling for them to wait, wait, he had a rose for his mother. And then the dirt would pour on top of him and he would wake up. 

This was two years ago. But, today, Remus woke up from his nap from a dream in which he was running. A dream in which he was screaming Wait. In which he was holding a rose. 

 

**4:30 P.M. // England**

********

********

Lily was fairly certain that she did not like James Potter. Not in the least. She did not like his scuffed shoes, crooked smile, glinting teeth, freckled nose, pretentious glasses, or sloppy, reckless curls. Nope. She liked none. Of. It.

She did like the castle with its jigsaw puzzle piece stairs, weary flowing banisters, and vaulted ceilings inhabited by hidden gargoyles. The castle was beautiful.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” And Lily turned, stunned that James Potter was able to voice her thoughts. Instead, he was pointing to an old faded tapestry of a princess in a nightgown.

“Oh yes, true art,” she muttered, her happy bubble from before burst. Dorcas had left her to be irked to death by James Potter, and Lily did not appreciate the lack of concern her new roommate had displayed. 

“James is funny,” she had said. “James is nice,” she had said. Lily disagreed. James is arrogant, she wanted to say. He’s stuck-up and stupid and I hate his hair.

“Come on, Evans! We don’t have all day to stare at the ceiling! A whole castle awaits!”

 

**11:35 A.M // America**

********

********

Remus slipped on his converse and left the dorm to take a walk. Darian raised an eyebrow but doesn’t voice his question, and Remus felt a sense of relief as he clicked the door closed behind him. So far, Darian seemed to be the most reasonable of his new roommates. 

 

**4:35 P.M. // England**

********

********

The dining hall was endless; long rows of shining tables stretched to infinity.

“There are that many students here?” Lily asked, amazed.

“Oh yeah, and then some,” James Potter replied. “It’s a massive place.”

And then he whisked her off to appreciate the obscene graffiti in the boys bathroom stalls.

 

**11:40 A.M. // America**

********

********

The dining hall had mostly emptied from the morning breakfast rush, but there were still some students in there, laughing, eating, playing cards, their voices bouncing off the thick stone walls. Remus poked his head inside the doorway, but wasn’t brave enough to fully enter the room. He would keep exploring until he found somewhere a bit more private. 

-

Sirius had lived in the castle for most of his life (at least, longer than he lived at his ‘home’) but the place still managed to surprise him everyday. Whether it was a tapestry that hadn’t been there yesterday, or a hidden window, or a new passageway, the castle had a mind of its own. Sirius figured no one really knew the castle expect Dumbledore.

 

**4:40 P.M. // England**

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********

“I don’t understand why you have to show me the clock tower,” Lily exhaled carefully, trying to disguise how out of breath she was as she struggled to keep up with Potter, who was racing up the steep steps as if they belonged to him.

“It’s a thing of wonder, my dear Miss Evans, and I would be a terrible tour guide if I neglected to show it to you!”

-

When James has first made Peter trek up the six flights of narrow stairs just to look at the insides of a giant clock, Peter had almost killed him. He would have if he hadn’t been so out of breath. Whenever James asked afterwards if Peter wanted to go up again, Peter would find a convenient reason to decline. “I need to water my plants” or “I promised Jen I’d help her with the history work” or “I would love to but I can’t find my other sock” were a few of his most used excuses.

Remus never turned down the opportunity to go up the clock tower with James and Peter worried he’d be dragged into the long climb now that Remus was gone. No matter how much he hated it, Peter would climb a thousand flights of stairs if it meant he and James would remain friends. 

 

**11:45 A.M. // America**

********

********

Remus was sure he was lost. He had been at the dining hall only a few minutes ago, but already the twisted halls of the castle had swallowed him and spat him out into a spiraling maze.

-

Sirius was also lost, but purposefully so. On days when he felt so worn that his bones were like toothpicks he let his eyelids fall shut and let his had hands guide him through twists and turns, sweaty or dry fingertips running over ragged cloth, cold stone, splintering wood. And then his eyes would flicker open, and he would try to find his way back.

 

**4:45 P.M. // England**

********

********

When Lily reached the top she was sure she had sweated through her shirt. Her thighs ached, her eyes stung a bit. It was stuffy and dusty, and there were thick metal beams crisscrossing the ceiling. 

“Come on,” said James Potter, beckoning. ‘It gets better up here.”

And so she followed him under the thick metal beams that could crush her bones if they dared to fall, and as she followed she could hear a tick, tick, tick begin to grow in her ears. As she followed, the tick began to vibrate at the base of her skull, began to rattle inside of her head. And by the time James Potter stopped, Lily was vibrating with the tick of the clock. 

In front of her was the back of the clock face, white, and creamy, and translucent, allowing light to stream in from the outside and fill the room. There were dust particles clogging the air, and thick heavy bolted beams above her head, grinding gears that shined with oil and heavy clock hands moving to the tick of each second. She had never felt more alive.

“Wasn’t it worth it?” 

She nodded.

 

**11:50 A.M. // America**

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********

When he had been a bit younger, Sirius was convinced there was a secret passageway out there somewhere, if only he could find it. Thus began his phase of pushing the stones in the wall, waiting for one to slide out from under his touch. After he failed to find hidden corridors in this manner, he tried again by lifting all the tapestries. And then by lifting all the paintings. And then by tapping the flagstones. He had yet to find something.

-

Remus liked to think of himself as the type of person who kept his head in a crisis, someone who was clam, sensible, unemotional, practical. He liked to think of himself in this way. But he was not calm at the moment. He did not like the idea of being lost in a school where he knew no one and no one knew him.

He was walking quickly now, skimming past gilt-framed paintings, buzzing by statues of pensive men in scholarly robes. 

There was a clock tower, he remembered suddenly. He had seen it when he first approached the school from the outside. A great towering spike reaching for the sun. A clock tower like the one back home he would climb with James. Maybe he could focus on finding that. 

His heart slowed down a beat and his breathing steadied again. He took note of the statues and the paintings on the walls. He was going to find the clock tower. He turned left.

 

**4:50 P.M. // England**

********

********

Lily did not want to admit that she liked the clocktower as much as she did. She couldn’t bear the thought of giving James Potter the satisfaction that he actually gave a halfway decent tour. But she also didn’t want to leave, and so, when she did climb back down the stairs, following Potter’s bobbing messy head, she took careful note of the decorative urn near the doorway, and the paintings lining the hall. She would find the clocktower again, she would make sure of it. 

 

**11:55 P.M. // America**

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********

Severus Snape also knew Hogwarts like the back of his hand. He could slither and slip around the corridors better than anyone he knew. And so he did not expect to find a tall student in yellow converse careening down his hallway, a hallway that was rarely inhabited and noticed by no one. Severus did his best to glare a bit. 

The student didn’t seem intimidated. “Clocktower?” He asked.

Severus wasn’t a bad person, or, at least, not often intentionally. “Make a right and then a left,” he said. Only later did it occur to him that he could have given the wrong directions and the student would have followed it anyway.

-

Remus sure did hope the greasy looking kid did give him the right directions. There was no way he would know if he was going the correct way or not. 

 

**12:05 P.M. // America**

********

********

Ten minutes later Remus was still looking. It seemed as if the clock tower would have to wait for another day.

\- 

It was past noon and Sirius’ stomach was unsatisfied by the mere donut it contained (breakfast in the kitchens seemed years ago); he would have to go down for some lunch soon. But for now, he’d rather hole up in the clock tower, and hear the tick tock of the clock, feel the steady breeze of the pendulum ghost his head. 

 

**5:05 P.M. // England**

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********

“And how would you rate your tour, Ms. Evans. A solid ten out of ten? A nine point six?”

James Potter looked so doggedly optimistic that Lily struggled to hold back a smile. 

She reached behind her for the handle to her dorm room. “A four out of ten. Too many steps.”

Potter didn’t look disappointed by her rating at all. “I’m just going to have to give you another one then, aren’t I?”

Lily opened the door behind her and shrugged. “Maybe.” 

James Potter wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought. 

 

**12:10 P.M. // America**

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_In the case of my untimely demise, I leave my estate, all personal property, and capital to my sole beneficiary, my nephew Sirius Orion Black III (son of my sister, Walburga Irma Black, and her husband, my second cousin, and brother-in-law, Orion Black) who, I am sure, is capable of great strength, love, and loyalty and to, above all else, his own self must remain true._

__

__

_Alphard Pollux Black_

____

____

__

__

Alphard Black signed his name with a flourish and rubbed his temple in an attempt to ease a building headache. With a sign, he reached for a bottle of whiskey and a small glass. He poured the golden liquid gently, and raised his glass in silent toast. 

“To Sirius, may you escape this damn family yet.” He tilted his head back and swallowed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I finally figured out formatting! I hope this chapter is easier to read than the other two. (And I am sorry for any typos!)


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